


rub one out

by thunderylee



Category: Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-21
Updated: 2012-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-18 16:43:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12392040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Kitayama demands a massage for his birthday.





	rub one out

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. written for cotton candy bingo (back rub).

“Hey you,” Kitayama says, stopping Nikaido as he goes to leave. “Where’s my birthday present?”

“I went in with Kenpi,” Nikaido replies quickly, and Senga nods from next to him.

Kitayama narrows his eyes at both of them. “Senga is excused because he has real work to do. What do you have to do, Nika?”

“Actually I have to—” Nikaido starts.

“You have nothing,” Kitayama cuts him off. “And lucky for you, neither do I. So tonight, you’re mine.”

Senga whistles and gives Nikaido a pat on the shoulder. “Good luck, Nika.”

Nikaido looks like he can’t decide who to glare at as Senga flounces off with Tamamori and Miyata while Yokoo conveniently ignores them to peel a sleeping Fujigaya off of the couch. To be fair, Yokoo is free this fall, too, but taking care of Fujigaya is a full-time job and one that Kitayama wants nothing to do with.

Besides, it’s common fact that Nikaido has the strongest hands out of the group, aside from Kitayama himself of course, and Kitayama has plans for them.

After making Nikaido treat him to a decent meal, the younger man only puts up a bit of a protest when Kitayama says they’re going to his apartment. He looks considerably happier when he walks through the door, though, which has Kitayama raising an eyebrow.

“I thought you were going to make me clean or something,” Nikaido tells him. “There’s hardly a mess.”

“I haven’t really been home,” Kitayama replies. “And why would I waste my power with something as dumb as that? There are so many better things I can make you do.”

Nikaido blinks as Kitayama pulls his shirt over his head. “Um.”

“Like a massage,” Kitayama goes on, and Nikaido visibly exhales in relief. “Don’t you dare rush through it, either. I want you to take your time and do it right.”

Nodding, Nikaido starts cracking his knuckles and Kitayama just turns on his heel, unbuckling his belt on the way down the hall. By the time he reaches his bedroom, he’s wearing only his boxers, and he flops face-first down onto his own bed, pointing to the nightstand without bothering to look and see if Nikaido followed him.

Naturally, he had. “Peaches?” Nikaido comments as he retrieves the bottle. “Really, Mitsu?”

“Shut it,” Kitayama mutters. “It was a gift.”

“From who, your mom?” Nikaido asks.

“No, _your_ mom,” Kitayama retorts, and he can almost _see_ Nikaido rolling his eyes at him despite his own eyes falling shut. “Less talking, more rubbing.”

“Yes sir,” Nikaido says facetiously, and Kitayama starts to wonder whether his hands are worth his _mouth_ when they both grab his shoulders and he decides that yes, yes they are.

For as loud and ridiculous as Nikaido usually is, his focus is fierce and his natural aggression shines in everything he does. Kitayama feels like Nikaido’s trying to push him right through the mattress, which is exactly what he wanted. All of the strain of filming a drama and putting up with Fujigaya at the same time flows right out of him as Nikaido’s slick hands squeeze his shoulders, moving down to his shoulder blades and making him arch so sharply that it’s almost obscene.

Nikaido doesn’t hold back, digging his thumbs along both sides of Kitayama’s spine from top to bottom. Kitayama’s had chiropractic adjustments that were less violent than this, though those weren’t nearly as enjoyable. He doesn’t bother trying to mask the moan that takes a few tries to come all the way out, interrupted by Nikaido’s forceful kneads of his muscles.

“Never knew you liked it so rough, Mitsu,” Nikaido teases, the strength he’s using evident in his voice.

“You have no idea,” Kitayama mumbles into his covers, knowing fully well that Nikaido can’t understand him. His arms stretch out in front of him, sliding under his pillow as the pressure soars all the way to his fingers and toes.

His lower back is next, and Kitayama pulls the pillow to his face as Nikaido hits a particularly tense spot. Nikaido pauses right away, clearly noticing the abrupt response of Kitayama’s body, and presses his thumbs around the area, going much slower but just as hard.

Kitayama sighs as the knot is worked out, bracing himself for more of the abrasive touch that doesn’t come. Instead he relaxes completely under Nikaido’s hands, which remain firm as he presses the heels of his palms up and down Kitayama’s back at at least half of the speed he was going before. It’s almost too slow, Kitayama’s muscles adjusting to the abrupt change and aching even more as they wait for it.

He doesn’t realize he’s whining until Nikaido calls him on it, a low, knowing chuckle that has Kitayama’s skin crawling. His body is chasing Nikaido’s touch, which Nikaido has to be aware of because he applies pressure right where Kitayama wants it, until his back feels like a puddle of mush and he isn’t entirely positive that he won’t seep right into the mattress.

“Don’t you dare fall asleep,” Nikaido hisses, and Kitayama smiles into his arms.

“Keep me awake, then.”

He expects Nikaido to tighten his grip again, but what he does is splay out his fingers, trailing the pinky fingers along Kitayama’s ribs, and Kitayama arches clear off the bed with the force of his squirming. “ _Nika_.”

“What?” Nikaido replies casually, now dragging _all_ of his fingers up and down Kitayama’s sides, slowly enough to give Kitayama a very sharp shiver. “You told me to take my time.”

“I also told you to massage me,” Kitayama shoot back, unable to keep the gasping out of his voice.

Thankfully Nikaido abandons his sides, but his fingers are just as feather-light as they drift up Kitayama’s back and shoulders. Each one leaves little tingles in its wake and Kitayama can’t find the words to tell him to stop, because it feels so _good_. Good in the way that he shouldn’t feel with Nikaido, especially while wearing only boxer shorts. In his bed.

Nikaido’s just as impatient as Kitayama, though, so the pressure comes back all too soon, kneading into his muscles and forcing out all of his tension. It’s an interesting contrast, one working him up while the other calms him, and Kitayama doesn’t realize how much it’s driving him crazy until Nikaido switches back to the lighter touch.

“I hope you don’t fuck like you massage,” he grumbles, his brain-to-mouth filter long gone.

“I think you mean you _do_ hope,” Nikaido replies without missing a beat, and Kitayama’s eyes fly open when Nikaido’s hands drop to the backs of his thighs. He hadn’t been tense there until Nikaido touched him, his hamstrings contracting at the sudden contact, but once again Nikaido firmly presses his thumbs into the muscles and works it out, pausing to add more oil to his hands.

Kitayama really should have seen it coming, but feeling all of Nikaido’s fingertips drift up the backs of his thighs has him jerking almost violently, his heart pounding in his throat as his body reacts all too favorably to the touch. Then it repeats on the inside of his thighs and he can’t help it; his hips snap automatically, giving a hard thrust against the mattress, and there’s nothing that isn’t completely filthy about the moan that follows.

“Something you want, Mitsu?” Nikaido asks, sounding smug as fuck, and Kitayama kind of wants to turn around and punch him in the face. With his raging erection.

“Don’t be a tease,” Kitayama says, his voice coming out deeper than he intends, but Nikaido just laughs.

“You said not to rush. I’m not rushing.”

Kitayama’s legs open embarrassingly wide as Nikaido’s fingers approach the hem of his boxers. “I hate you so much.”

“No you don’t,” Nikaido says, comfortingly like he’s assuring Kitayama of the fact. “You don’t hate me at all.”

He slides his hands all the way up the backs of Kitayama’s thighs, over the cheeks of his ass and up his spine to his neck, where he uses one hand to rub the base of his skull while the other rests on Kitayama’s hip. It’s not even moving, fingertips stationary along the bone, but just feeling its weight has Kitayama squirming.

“How rude of me to not get you a birthday present from just me,” Nikaido taunts him, his voice much closer now. “Good thing I know just what you want.”

“Nika,” Kitayama says, fully intending for it to be a protest, but it comes out in an encouraging gasp.

“You should see yourself,” Nikaido tells him. “You’re such a mess right now.”

Kitayama believes it, with as much as he can’t stop moving and as charged as his nerves are. His skin is burning everywhere Nikaido’s fingers make contact, which is a good portion of his body as Nikaido’s oiled hands slide down his arms and back up again.

“I want to see your face,” Nikaido hisses. “Turn over.”

“I can’t actually move,” Kitayama tells him honestly. “You’ll have to do it.”

“Lazy ass,” Nikaido says affectionately, and the next second has him rolling Kitayama onto his back. Kitayama’s only marginally embarrassed as his boxers do absolutely nothing to hide how much he’s enjoying this, but Nikaido barely gives it a glance before returning his hands to Kitayama’s body, this time from the front.

His chest muscles are much less tense and much more sensitive, and Nikaido’s a lot more gentler now as he stares down at Kitayama with dark, dark eyes. Of course, gentle for Nikaido is still a little rough, but Kitayama doesn’t mind at all as his body arches under the attention and his next breath is stolen by Nikaido’s mouth.

He doesn’t mind Nikaido’s mouth either, at least when it’s not talking and wholly focused on devouring him. Kitayama didn’t have a chance at dominating this kiss from the first second, content to just part his lips and let Nikaido in. His hands find Nikaido’s shoulders and twist in his shirt, wondering why the hell it’s still on as Nikaido’s touch drops back to his waist.

Those fingers tug at his boxers and Kitayama lifts his hips to be helpful, his legs falling open as Nikaido lightly scratches up the inside of Kitayama’s thighs on the way back up. Kitayama couldn’t be any more submissive unless he was in a collar, maybe tied up and gagged, but then he couldn’t be kissed like this and claw at Nikaido’s shirt until he gets the hint and yanks it over his head.

“Nika,” Kitayama gasps. “Touch me already.”

“I am touching you,” that brat replies, backing up his smart mouth by reaching down to grope both cheeks of Kitayama’s ass in his hands, pulling him close enough to rub against the front of Nikaido’s jeans, and the sound that Kitayama emits isn’t masculine at all.

He expects Nikaido to make fun of him, but all he does is reach down for his own belt and shuck his pants and underwear in record time, and Kitayama has never been so grateful for this one’s complete lack of shame before right now. Nikaido crushes their mouths back together, kissing him vehemently as he grabs onto Kitayama with purpose now, while all Kitayama can do is whimper against his lips each time his cock make contact with anything.

Finally— _finally_ —those fingers encase him, and Kitayama’s hips lift right up off the bed to push into it. He wraps his arms around Nikaido’s back, pulling him closer, moaning with each tug of his length, too slow to be of much relief.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard,” Nikaido whispers against his lips. “I hope you don’t have anything to do tomorrow.”

“Just you,” Kitayama replies facetiously, and Nikaido’s back in his mouth again. His other hand drops between Kitayama’s legs, which spread so wide that his knees are up by his elbows, and he supposes he doesn’t have much shame right now either.

An oiled fingertip circles his rim and he jerks, his noises dying on Nikaido’s tongue as Nikaido teases him for entirely too long before pushing inside. His long fingers touch Kitayama deeper than usual, his body wholly approving of this as it pushes back without his active direction. He feels a second finger go in and then Nikaido’s stretching him, bumping that spot that has Kitayama arching and tearing his mouth away to toss his head back and moan.

“You are so hot right now,” Nikaido’s hissing, and Kitayama finally notices how worked up _Nikaido_ is as the younger man grinds a thick erection into Kitayama’s hip. “Tell me how much you want it.”

“I want it,” Kitayama gets out, his body rocking from Nikaido’s rough fingering. “So shut up and give it to me.”

“Not yet, birthday boy,” Nikaido replies, grinning at Kitayama’s half-hearted glare. “But if you ask for it enough, it may happen faster.”

“You cannot outlast me in a battle of willpower,” Kitayama says firmly, “so just give up now.”

Nikaido hovers over him, far enough away to make absolutely no contact, and Kitayama lets out an involuntary noise of disapproval when Nikaido stops moving the hand that’s on his cock. He doesn’t remove it—that would be too easy, Kitayama realizes. Instead he leaves it loosely coiled, not nearly tight enough to make thrusting up into it worth the effort but enough to remind Kitayama that it’s there, _not moving_.

His other hand still goes strong, now three fingers deep inside Kitayama, who is reaching his breaking point with each prod to his spot. He hasn’t come untouched before, but feels like he could right now, though that’s not how he wants to finish at all. He wants what Nikaido’s been teasing him with since they got here, the X-rated version of his massage that still results in Kitayama being pushed into the mattress.

“Nika, please,” the traitorous words escape from his lips on their own, his body jerking with every flick of Nikaido’s wrist.

“Please what,” Nikaido prompts, smirking entirely too much for Kitayama’s tastes, and Kitayama slides his hand up the back of Nikaido’s neck to grab a large chunk of his hair. He _yanks_ back and it has the desired effect, Nikaido’s eyes rolling back into his head as he lets out a loud moan, because he likes it as rough as he gives it. “ _Fuck_ , Mitsu.”

“Yes, that,” Kitayama tells him, recognizing the way Nikaido’s eyes glaze over as he leans over Kitayama and reaches over to his nightstand. “Told you I’d outlast you,” he hisses in Nikaido’s ear.

Nikaido responds by doubling the speed of his fingering, reducing Kitayama to a writhing mess on his bed until he grabs Nikaido by the arm and gasps “fuck me, please fuck me” over and over again. Satisfied, Nikaido removes his fingers completely and rolls on a condom, rubbing more of the massage oil on himself before kneeling between Kitayama’s thighs and Kitayama doesn’t think he’ll be able to smell peaches for a while without remembering this night.

Neither of them is one for pleasantries and Nikaido just thrusts in, hard and hastily, falling forward onto Kitayama’s chest and looping his arms around Kitayama’s legs to hold him steady. Kitayama couldn’t move if he wanted to, pinned to his own bed with Nikaido’s full weight on top of him, pounding into him, and he wouldn’t have it any other way, his only active movement in his hand still fisting Nikaido’s hair. When he pulls, Nikaido goes faster and makes low groaning noises as he hits Kitayama deep inside.

“Harder,” Kitayama rasps, and Nikaido starts snapping his hips so sharply that the whole bed shakes. “Is that all you got?”

“You are going to be so sore tomorrow,” Nikaido says, his nails digging into Kitayama’s back as he flattens him to the bed.

“And you’re going to be so smug about it,” Kitayama adds.

“Damn right I am,” Nikaido says, and Kitayama pulls him down by his hair to make him shut up with a kiss that Nikaido quickly turns searing.

He senses Nikaido’s rhythm start to falter, their kiss interrupted with desperate gasps for air, and Kitayama reaches for his cock to catch up. Nikaido moans instantly, so loud that Kitayama thinks he may have to avoid his neighbors for a while, and they both race for their respective finishes, quickly falling out of their kiss but not going far.

Nikaido gets there first, nearly deafening Kitayama with his howl as he shudders on top of him, and Kitayama’s right behind him, arching as he spills onto his own chest. They both lay panting for a bit until Nikaido rolls to the side, making a face at the oil on Kitayama’s covers that he’s eventually going to have to get up and wash.

“Satisfactory birthday present?” Nikaido asks breathlessly.

“I suppose,” Kitayama replies, and Nikaido laughs.

“Maybe I’ll have Kenpi go in with _me_ next year instead.”


End file.
